


Shiver Me Timber

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promises, promises....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver Me Timber

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Business Associates #3 and later in One in Ten #9 under the pen name Laura Duval Grigsby.

_"Promises, promises."_

 

          The sea breeze was cool and sweet.  Ironhorse stretched in his lounge-chair and begrudgingly admitted to himself that Harrison had actually had a good idea when he'd thought up the vacation.

          A first, Ironhorse was sure, and he'd be damned if he'd tell the astrophysicist it was a good idea, but still, all in all, it was turning out to be a needed, enjoyable break from the war they fought.  However, it was getting late, and it was time he headed back to the comfortable cabin he shared with Harrison and see if he was ready for supper.

          Standing, he paused a moment to admire the sunset.  The sky was a deep red-orange, a few clouds here and there breaking up the pattern and making it look like some kind of stained glass design.  The cruise ship creaked.  It was actually an old clipper ship, something the pirates who sailed these waters would have envied.  In two days they'd reach Jamaica, and spend a few days with Norton's family.

          He grinned.  That was going to be an interesting visit.

          Nodding at one of the crew, Ironhorse turned and headed below deck.  Reaching the main hallway off which the cabins were located, he found Suzanne and Derriman emerging from their room.

          "Colonel," the sergeant said with an embarrassed blush.

          "John.  Suzanne," he said, suppressing a grin.  "I'll get Harrison and meet you in the galley."

          "Sounds good," Suzanne said.  "Norton and Norah just headed that way.  We'll save you seats."

          "Appreciate it," Ironhorse said, stepping up to his cabin door.  It was locked

          He knocked.  "Harrison?"

          He heard the lock being released, but Blackwood did not open the door.

          With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ironhorse grabbed the brass doorknob and twisted.  He stepped into the dark room, squinting, and pushing the door shut again.

          "Harrison, what the hell are you doing?  It's time to—"

          "Hold it right there… matey," was the growled reply.

          "Matey?  Harrison—"

          "Into the shower, you scurvy dawg."

          Ironhorse squinted into the dark, trying to make out Harrison's expression.  The RD/Heat sensor he carried in his pocket was quiet, so whatever was wrong with the scientist, it had nothing to do with the aliens.  The colonel had the sinking feeling that Blackwood was suffering from one of _those_ moods.

          "Harrison, I'm hungry.  Let's—"

          "The shower!  Into the shower with you!"

          "All right, all right!" Ironhorse acquiesced.  "I'll take a goddamned shower.  But then we go eat!"

          Ironhorse stomped into the small bathroom off the cabin.  Turning on the light, he looked back into the room, trying to catch sight of Blackwood, but the pest was nowhere to be seen.

          He turned on the water, letting it warm up, then tugging on the shower.  Stripping off his shorts and t-shirt, Paul stepped into the stall and methodically soaped himself from head to toe.  After a rinse he decided he might as well shampoo.  With that done, he turned the water off and opened the stall.

          No towels.

          "Blackwood!"

          A small blue towel flew in from the darkness, landing in a heap in the middle of the bathroom floor.  Shaking his head, Ironhorse stepped out, grabbed the towel and dried himself off.  Running the towel over his hair, Paul snugged it around his waist, then combed his hair.  The rest could wait.

          He stepped back into the room, clad in the towel.

          The lights snapped on.

          "That's far enough… cabin boy."

          Ironhorse's eyes flew wide, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.  "Harrison, what the—?"

          Blackwood, clad in tight black pants, billowing white shirt and knee high brown boots, stood before the stunned soldier, a sword resting in his hand, pointed at Ironhorse's chest.

          "You will not speak until spoken to, Cabin Boy."

          "I'm no damned boy, cabin or otherwise!"

          Ironhorse glowered and Blackwood stepped forward, the point of the sword just touching the Cherokee's chest.  "You're an indolent one, aren't you.  Well, I like that.  A little spirit is fine, but you have to learn your place."

          Harrison pressed the tip of the sword forward.

          "Ouch!" Ironhorse snapped, taking a step backward.  He looked down, expecting to find blood, but there was none.  The blade was dulled.  "That hurt!"

          Blackwood smiled.  "I know, but I'll comfort you."

          Paul's eyes narrowed.  "Damn it, Blackwood, you've been reading too much of that crap you pick up at those… those… conventions of crazies!"

          "Mmmm," Harrison replied, moving forward again.

          "Fuck you, Harrison!"

          "Not yet, Cabin Boy."

          Ironhorse pressed up against the wall of the cabin.  "Harrison—"  The comment was cut short when Harrison used the rounded tip of the blade to draw a light circle around his nipple.  He groaned slightly.

          "Ah, I see my Cabin Boy has a taste for pleasure," Blackwood said, running the cold tip of the blade over Ironhorse's arm.

          "Harrison…"

          Stepping closer, Blackwood used the flat expanse of the blade to press against the colonel's well-muscled abdomen.  Carefully he brushed the blade upwards, stopping and pressing it against Ironhorse's skin, covering both hard nipples.

          Leaning forward, he kissed Paul, his lips pressing hard against the colonel's.

          Ironhorse returned the kiss, his lips parting under the onslaught.  Their tongues parried.

          "Harrison…"

          Blackwood turned the blade, pushing the edge down his chest to tease at the edge of the towel.

          "Blackwood, I'm going to take that damned sword and spank you."

          "Promises, promises," Blackwood mumbled into the colonel's ear.  Taking a step back, he looked down at the towel, now with an inviting bulge.

          Slipping the tip of the blade under the flap of the towel, he lifted it just far enough to see the growing erection.  "Oh, Cabin Boy… shiver me timber."

          "Aye-aye, sir," Paul growled back.


End file.
